The great Cayman Islands getaway

Down on Main Street
Grand Cayman
Rumors of a hammerhead stir the air. Divemasters in every bar down Seven Mile Beach are talking. I’m skeptical — as they say, “no pictures, no proof.” I have been on-island two weeks, and so far I’ve spotted stingrays, eagles rays and tons of turtles. Apparently the hammerhead isn’t as interested in being seen. So of course, my friends and I are on our way to Main Street — her supposed stomping grounds — to find her.

The water is surprisingly still for the North End. With visions of hammerheads dancing in our heads, we swim down the line. We weave through the coral to a swim-through that takes us down and out — ultimately opening into the deep. I stare at the open water for so long that a vision of a shark actually begins to materialize from the empty sea. A few times I almost bang on my tank to alert the others. Deciding it best not to cause any false alarms, I move on and slowly swim behind the rest of the group. Along the way, my eyes still seem to have trouble focusing. I blink a few times to make sure I am not imagining things … again. Then there she is — an 11-foot hammerhead gently gliding below me — a real one. As if coming to meet me, she makes her way up the wall. My heart is pounding so hard I can actually hear it. We get closer. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins almost causing me to shake. My mom would kill me if she saw me right now — chasing a hammerhead. And of course, I continue deeper to meet my new friend.

As we get closer, I have the urge to turn around. How close is too close anyways? I slowly kick forward and try to make my breaths as few and far between as possible. Suddenly, she sees me. And with the flip of her tail, she darts down the wall and out of sight. Breathless, I look up to see if anyone else saw her. Then — as if to let me know they were with me all along — two eagle rays glide overhead. As I make my way to the boat, I give the camera in my hand an extra squeeze, thankful that I have the video to prove it.

I visit the Cayman Islands every chance I get. And Grand Cayman is usually my first stop. It is the biggest of the three islands, measuring a mere 22 by eight miles long. Also the most developed, Grand Cayman is perfect for those who want the island getaway with lots of topside options. You can find a hidden romantic restaurant like Papagallo’s, get your salsa on at Café Med, watch a quiet sunset on Seven Mile Beach or do nonstop diving just about anywhere. And if you choose the latter, it is a wall-dive lover’s piece of paradise.

Before I even open my eyes the next morning in my room at PADI Five-Star Gold Palm Dive Center Sunset House, I hear the chipper crow of a rooster parading in the courtyard below — the perfect reminder that yes, I’m in Cayman. As I tumble out of bed I am instantly excited. Today Sunset Divers is going to Sand Chute, a dive site resembling an underwater ski slope — and when I’m there, I always feel like I’m flying over a Colorado ski resort (minus the lodge).

Within minutes of waking up, I have to remind myself that I’m not dreaming as I float over the mountaintop. The peak of the sandy summit slopes endlessly into the darkness of the mysterious waters below. And below is the kind of deep water that holds unusual creatures with crazy anatomies — bodies built to withstand intense pressure and constant darkness. Critters with senses so sharp they can pinpoint the exact coordinates of their prey without ever being detected. And similarly, something in the deep below could be sensing my presence. I silently take in the thrill.

Although I might not know what lurks in the depths, from my view the sand sits like powder, and the sun hits my skin as if I were on an actual ski lift. I want to go down the hill and find out where the run ends. I descend the incline and feel the urge to find the bottom — to meet the mysterious creatures with no eyes and built-in headlamps. They can’t be too far away. The temptation of deep waters always gets me. Just then a school of horse-eye jacks circles above as a quick reminder of my limits. Thankfully, I slowly rise and join them. And after a motionless moment inside their dancing ring, I make my way back to the surface — even farther away from the unknown depths below.

That evening at My Bar — Sunset House’s answer to Cheers — expats, locals and divers enjoy end-of-day drinks with conch fritters and games of who-saw-what against a background of the blue-green lights of a night dive shining up from the house reef. With unlimited shore diving, it seems someone is always underwater here. And when they do dry off, they come to My Bar to eat, drink, and of course, brag. As the night starts to dwindle, I make my way to my room. And playing the opposing role to the morning’s rooster, the sound of the sea gently lulls me to sleep. 

Slide show   A Mermaid’s Playground The underwater world presented by Sport Diver Magazine. more photos

As on any trip’s last day, I go topside for my requisite drive around the island (and have a love/hate moment with my computer, which won’t let me dive before flying). I have made my way up and down Seven Mile Beach throughout the week, so to slow things down I head to the quiet side of Cayman — the East End. It is only a 45-minute drive from my pink corner at Sunset House, and I take my time. After a quick stop at Chester’s for their homemade sweet fried bread, I continue eastward. The blowholes on my left are a sure sign I’m close. Their sky-high spurts of seawater always lure me to play a quick game of cat and mouse, but no matter how many times I think I have their timing figured out, I usually end up going back to the car … drenched. This time is no exception. When I finally dry off and hit Rum Point, I contemplate staying for sunset. Since that particular area of the island wraps around to face the West End, you can watch as the sun falls behind the island. The serene silence of this side feels like a vacation from a vacation. I don’t think it could get any calmer than that, making it one of the best places to watch the sun go down. But then again, there really aren’t any bad places to watch it. So, I opt to head back toward the West End and make a stop at Smith’s Cove — one of my personal favorites. And as the sun starts to disappear, I think back to my new friend, the hammerhead, and wonder where she goes for her sunsets.

As the official publication of the PADI Diving Society, Sport Diver is the magazine divers turn to each month to find out what’s going on in their world. Sport Diver is the ultimate source for up to date information on dive culture, equipment, travel, training and PADI Diving Society activities.

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